Page 30 of Saint Céline
But Selena Martin from the staff cottage. Selena Martin with the mother who cleaned the Montgomerys’ sinks and folded their towels. Selena Martin, who had learned the right fork, the right smile, the right school stories, the right pronunciation of her own name. Would he still touch me like this? Or would he look embarrassed, as if he had brought the wrong girl home by mistake?
My throat tightened. I closed my eyes and finally fell asleep.
* * *
When I opened them again, something warm moved between my legs. For one confused second, my mind refused to understand what I was feeling.
A mouth. Hot. Slow. Insistent. A tongue sliding through my folds with patient skill, circling my clit before dipping loweragain. My eyes flew open. The room stayed dark except for the marina lights coming through the rain-streaked windows.
Vincent Moreau knelt between my thighs, coat still on, dark hair falling across his forehead. Thad slept on his stomach right beside me, arm still flung across the pillow, breathing steady and deep.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I tried to sit up, but Vincent’s hands gripped my hips and held me down, firm but not bruising. I opened my mouth to scream. His eyes lifted to mine in the dark. He shook his head once, then lowered his mouth again and sucked my clit between his lips. Pleasure shot through me so sharp and sudden that my back arched off the bed. I bit my lip hard to keep any sound inside. My hand flew down, fingers tangling in his hair, pushing at first, trying to shove him away. He did not move. Instead, he licked deeper, tongue pressing inside me, then sliding back up to circle my clit with devastating patience.
I struggled against him, thighs tightening around his shoulders, heels digging into the mattress.No, I mouthed silently, the word forming on my lips but never leaving them.
Thad shifted beside me, exhaled, and settled again. Vincent’s grip on my hips tightened. He flattened his tongue and dragged it over me in long, deliberate strokes, then sucked again, harder this time, the wet heat of his mouth relentless. My body betrayed me. Heat pooled low in my belly. My hips rolled despite myself, chasing the pressure. I hated how good it felt. I hated how quickly the ache that Thad had left unsatisfied began to build under Vincent’s tongue.
He knew exactly what he was doing. He worked me open with slow, thorough licks, then focused on my clit again, sucking and flicking until my thighs started to shake. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled, trying to drag him away, but the motion only pressed him closer. A whimper escaped me before I could stop it.
Vincent looked up, eyes dark and satisfied in the faint light, and slid two fingers inside me without warning. They curled perfectly, stroking the spot that made my vision blur. I clenched around him, fighting it, fighting him, but the orgasm crashed over me anyway, sudden and shattering. My back bowed. My mouth fell open in a silent cry. My whole body tightened and released in waves that left me trembling and breathless.
Vincent stayed between my legs until the last shudder faded. He licked me through it, gentle now, almost tender, like he wanted to wring every last tremor from me. When I finally went limp, he pressed one last soft kiss to my inner thigh, then rose to his feet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes never leaving mine, satisfied, almost proud, like he had taken care of something Thad had left unfinished.
He stopped at my side of the bed. Close enough now that I could see the rain on the shoulders of his dark coat, the loosened strand of hair across his forehead, the faint curve of his mouth. He leaned down until his voice could not possibly reach Thad.
“I told you to lock his door.”
My pulse beat wildly in my throat.
“I did,” I whispered.
Vincent’s eyes darkened with amusement.
“Then he didn’t keep you safe very well.”
My hand tightened around the sheet.
“You need to leave.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
“In a moment.”
His gaze dropped to Thad’s arm, where it rested near my waist, not touching me anymore but close enough to claim he had. Something passed through Vincent’s face too quickly to name.
Then he reached out and touched the bracelet on my wrist. The one Thad had given me. His fingers did not touch my skin. Only the gold. Still, I felt it everywhere.
“This does not suit you,” he said.
I pulled my hand back.
“You’re sick.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “But not stupid.”
Thad made a low sound in his sleep.
